


Tell Me Another Beautiful Lie

by whenshewrites



Series: A Collection of One-Shots and Tumblr Prompts [50]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Beta Derek Hale, Canon-Typical Violence, Derek Hale Loves Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale Needs a Hug, Emotional Manipulation, Emotionally Hurt Stiles Stilinski, Hurt Stiles Stilinski, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Manipulation, Nogitsune Effects, Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, One Shot, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Pre-Slash, Protective Derek, Scene Reimagine, Stiles Stilinski Needs a Hug, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:14:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25033783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whenshewrites/pseuds/whenshewrites
Summary: Derek didn’t think the boy that stood in front of him was Stiles. But he was too scared to call him Void.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: A Collection of One-Shots and Tumblr Prompts [50]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1956889
Comments: 9
Kudos: 249





	Tell Me Another Beautiful Lie

Derek… Derek didn’t think the boy that stood in front of him was Stiles.

His eyes were hollow and the circles underneath his eyes were black. He smelled strange and Derek couldn’t tell if the smile on his face was real or not. The boy stood in his loft with his back toward the windows and as lightning cracked behind him, Stiles was silhouetted in the light.

Derek didn’t think the boy that stood in front of him was Stiles. But he was too scared to call him Void.

When he stepped forward Stiles tilted his head.

“Derek.”

The very action of the name falling from the boy’s mouth was enough to make Derek pause. He’d promised the Sheriff that he would find his son, that he would take care of him, and that he would make sure nothing happened. Whatever that meant. Whatever that required.

But Derek’s throat was tight. He looked at Stiles and wanted nothing more than to leave. Because as much as Derek hoped, as much as he wished, he didn’t think that was Stiles. He didn’t think that was the boy he had come to know so well.

“Derek,” Stiles said again. “I expected my father.”

“Your father?”

Stiles chuckled. The sound echoed off the rafters and Derek already hated his loft. He hated how it reminded him of Isaac’s absence, of Boyd’s death, of Cora’s departure. He hated everything about it. But he didn’t hate the boy standing only a few feet away.

Derek wished he could. Because that would make things so much easier.

“My father,” Stiles said, like he was testing out how the words sounded. “Or the boy’s father? That’s what you’re really asking yourself, isn’t it Derek? You’re asking yourself who is standing in front of you right now.”

Derek didn’t want to call him Void. He didn’t want to call Stiles by the name of the demon. But the name formed on his tongue anyway and Stiles laughed.

“Will you tell me, Derek? Will you tell me who is standing in front of you right now?”

“Void.”

“Such a smart Sourwolf.”

Derek resisted the urge to snarl at that. Because the name wasn’t said with the normal softness that Stiles would use. There was no fond exasperation, no slight sarcasm, and no secret adoration to the nickname. There was only amusement. Cold, hungry amusement.

Derek clenched his jaw and took a step forward. Void took a step to the side and they circled each other, each one looking for an in.

“Tell me, Derek,” Void said in sharp amusement. “Did you come here for me, or did you come here for him? Did you come here for all the things that I could offer you, or did you come for all the things that the boy has held back?’

Derek did snarl this time. Void’s eyes glittered with sharp amusement.

“Oh, Derek. A real beta submits, you know. A real beta submits to those it knows are superior. Am I not superior to you? Drop to your knees, blue-eyed beta, and show me how well you whine.”

“You’re not my superior.”

“I’m not? What about Stiles?”

Void moved forward, breaking their little dance. Derek went tense and the boy tilted his head, searching him up and down. A satisfied look crossed his face and Void sighed, fingers reaching up to touch Derek’s cheek. Derek straightened but didn’t yank away. He forced himself not to.

“The Sourwolf,” Void said, clicking his tongue. “The once-Alpha. How does it feel Derek, to be demoted? To be shown your place. There’s no Hale Alpha in Beacon Hills anymore.”

Derek pulled his face away. Not sharply or in anger. Just in cool, calm silence. Void sneered.

“What, Derek? Are you too good for a demon’s touch?”

“I want to talk to Stiles.”

“You are talking to Stiles,” Void said. His voice turned to silk; unlike Stiles’s. Even when Stiles was quiet, his words were like thunder. Like laughter in the middle of pack movie night, like grins in the middle of a serious conversation, like loud whispering in the middle of the night.

Stiles had always been rougher than silk and Derek thought that’s one of the reasons he had come to love him.

“Derek,” Void said, reaching out to touch his cheek again. “Derek, this is Stiles now.”

Derek growled and yanked back. Void’s expression changed.

“Do you know what it’s like?” he asked, circling him again. Derek tensed but Void only laughed. “Do you know what it’s like to play the lamb amidst a bunch of wolves? Stiles could be so much more. He could be so much stronger. But he plays the human. He plays the innocent.”

“Stiles is innocent.”

“Not anymore.”

Once more, rage built up in Derek’s throat. He forced himself to swallow it and glared at Void instead. The demon grinned.

“But you already know that, don’t you?”

“I want to talk to Stiles.”

“You’ve said that already, Sourwolf.”

“Stiles,” Derek said, ignoring Void now. “Stiles, I want to talk to you. Not Void. Not whatever he has to say. Stiles, I want to talk to you.”

The demon’s face twisted. But the look in his eyes was suddenly a little less sure. “You think you can make the orders around here, wolf? The boy is mine. He’s been mine. He comes out when I want him to and he stays put when I order it.”

“Stiles,” Derek said quietly. “I only want to speak to you.”

Void blinked at him a few times. A sneer started to pull at his lips again and then he shook his head, the expression fading. Something clouded his face. It was gone in a second but Derek knew what he’d seen. He stepped closer, Stiles’s name forming on his tongue again, but then there was a hand wrapped around his throat.

Before Derek could react, he was being shoved against the nearest wall. Pain exploded through his body and Void lifted him a foot off the floor, lips twisted back in a snarl. His eyes flashed and he laughed coldly.

“You think you can take Stiles from me, wolf? From me? He’s mine. His head is mine.” Void flexed his fingers around Derek’s throat. “His body is mine.”

Derek clawed at Void’s hand and gasped for breath. Void laughed.

“What am I, Derek? Am I your little human or am I so much more? If I let you go, if I make this a fair fight, could you kill him? Could you lock your claws deep into this fragile throat and rip it out?”

“Stiles—”

“He’s not here!” Void shouted. “Stiles isn’t here! He’s gone!”

Thunder continued to echo outside the loft. As the lightning flashed, filling the room, it lit Void’s form up again. This time, Derek thought he looked a lot more like the devil than any teenage boy he’d ever come to know. And for the first time since coming here, Derek wondered if he could rip Void’s throat out.

The thought terrified him. The images of Stiles hurt, seeing the boy bleed out in his arms had haunted Derek for weeks. He was pretty sure if he had to watch Stiles die, he’d die a little bit himself.

Void’s teeth bared in a snarl.

“You couldn’t,” the demon said. “You couldn’t harm a hair on his head.”

Derek bared his teeth right back. Void’s eyes lit up and suddenly, he let go of Derek’s neck, stepping back and tapping his fingers along his own skin. They traced up his arm and then back down to his wrist. Pausing there. Tensing along the thin muscle.

“But I could.”

“Void, no!”

Before Derek could move, Void was yanking his wrist to the side. There was a crack and then a cry of pain. Suddenly, Stiles was dropping to his knees and pain flooded his amber eyes. Derek rushed forward, catching the boy in his arms, and Stiles dropped against his chest, sobbing.

“Derek, Derek, I can’t—”

“I’m here.”

“Derek, I can’t _control_ him.”

Derek drew back and inch and studied the boy’s face. He recognized the amber of Stiles’s eyes and the terrified expression on his face. He recognized the beating of his heart and the warmth of his scent.

But he wasn’t so sure if he recognized the quirk of his lips or the tilt of his head. He wasn’t sure if he recognized the shaking of his body or the grasping of his hands.

Derek saw Stiles but he wasn’t sure if he was seeing Void too.

“Derek,” Stiles said, and he sounded terrified. Derek touched his hand without thinking and black lines started to creep up his arm. Stiles made a soft gasping noise and melted forward, and Derek felt his heart clench. “Derek, I can’t fight him.”

“I’m here,” Derek said, because he was pretty sure that was all he could say. “Stiles, I’m here.”

“I’m scared, Derek.”

“I know.”

“I can’t keep him from hurting people.”

“I know, Stiles.”

“Derek,” Stiles said, clawing at his arm. The boy’s fingers dug into his skin and Derek resisted the urge to yank back. Stiles’s scent was nothing but terrified. His heartbeat sounded like a war drum and his scent was sour with fear. “Derek, you could do it. You could stop me.”

Derek didn’t take his hand away from the boy’s. But he tensed and averted his gaze. Stiles gripped his arm tighter and Derek forced himself to look down.

He couldn’t tell if he recognized the sharp pleading in Stiles’s eyes. “Derek, you could do it.”

“No.”

“No?” Stiles’s face suddenly hardened and he yanked away, stumbling to his feet. His wrist was still twisted at an odd angle. Derek rose slowly too and watched Stiles warily. “What do you mean, no?”

“I mean no,” Derek said. “I’m not killing you.”

Stiles eyed him. His eyes caught a flash of lighting and then his lips twisted up in a sneer.

The terrifying thing was, Derek was pretty sure that was Stiles.

He caught the boy’s wrists as Stiles threw himself forward, locking them together. Stiles cried out in pain and tried to drive his knee into Derek’s stomach, but Derek twisted and cut him off. Stiles yelped again. The sound was like a punch to the gut.

“Come on, Derek,” Stiles snarled, his words dark with anger and pain. “You know how to do it. You’ve done it before. Use your teeth, you animal. Rip my throat out like you’ve always wanted too.”

Derek snarled at the back of his throat. He shoved Stiles against the wall and for the first time since he’d entered the loft, a spark of real fear entered the boy’s eyes. It was gone in a second but Derek knew what he’d seen. Stiles looked terrified and then he looked tired; the black circles under his eyes deepening, his lips cracked and face pale.

He looked like he really wanted it. Him— Stiles— not Void.

Derek yanked back like he’s been burned. Stiles slumped to the ground and sat there for a moment before chuckling humorlessly.

“I thought that’d work, Sourwolf, I really did. You were never very good with insults.”

“I told you no,” Derek said, voice shaky. Stiles glanced up with a sorrowful expression.

“I know.”

“I’m not killing you.”

Stiles’s laugh cracked. “I know, Derek.”

“I’m sorry.”

The boy was quiet before dropping his gaze to the floor again. His words were hollow this time. “I know that too.”

Derek moved over and cautiously sunk down at the boy’s side. When Stiles glanced over, his eyes were blurry. His wrist was still twisted wrong and Derek reached out; an open hand waiting.

Stiles slowly placed his wrist in Derek’s palm and then yelped as Derek cracked it back into place. Derek winced.

“Sorry.”

“S’okay.”

“It’s not.”

“No,” Stiles whispered. “It’s not.”

Derek so desperately wanted to do more than that, so desperately wanted to reach out and touch him, he had to clench his fists back against his chest. He knew Stiles caught the action. And he thought he saw the boy’s eyes spark at that.

Derek didn’t know who was moving forward, suddenly. As the boy leaned against his side, Derek wasn’t sure who it was.

Stiles’s scent filled his nose. Derek resisted the urge to shiver at the familiarity of it.

He thought he heard another heartbeat from somewhere close then. And— and maybe Stiles did too because suddenly he was tensing. The boy leaned forward and his lips brushed against the shell of Derek’s ear. Derek closed his eyes with a shudder as dark words filled his ear.

“Would you do it, Derek? Would you submit to your superior?”

Derek didn’t move. The loft door slid open.

As the Sheriff stepped inside, a pair of cuffs in his hands, and Stiles climbed to his feet, Derek knew it was about to start all over again. The fight for who came out on top.

He was pretty sure one side of Stiles was going to try and die too. And he was terrified he knew which. Because he didn’t think the boy standing in front of him was Stiles.

But Derek knew to be terrified when it was.

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the requested prompt: a reimagine of Void!Stiles if Derek was the one to show up at the loft first instead of the Sheriff. Of course, I'd love to hear what you guys thought! I love writing Void!Stiles. That dark trope doesn't get enough love.
> 
> Come hang with me on Tumblr?
> 
> [the dumpster](https://when-she-writes-stuff.tumblr.com/)


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